


Reflections

by Syksy



Category: Interview With the Vampire (1994)
Genre: M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syksy/pseuds/Syksy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had once thought that I could love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chamilet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamilet/gifts).



> Thank you to Lady Oscar for the beta, any faults remaining are mine alone.

When he came to my door, I'd known for days that it would happen. I had felt his presence in the city, as he had once felt mine. It wasn't hard, now that I knew it was possible. I kept watch, so to speak. So that I could avoid anyone if they came. 

Why didn't I avoid him, then? Why did I wait while he ascended the stairs, slowly as a mortal would, careful to let his feet make sound, oh so careful to give time for me to change my mind. He hadn't been so kind, before. But I shouldn't have been surprised by the change, should I? After all, I feared he wouldn't even recognize me.

My door was thick, good strong wood and equipped with the best locks this century could provide. He could have broken through it in an instant. I walked close to it, and my tread was silent. I listened, but heard nothing. He doesn't breathe, of course. We stood there for a while, and I wondered if seen from outside our stances would be mirrored, the door between us a divide between identical moments in time, reflections of one person split forever in two.

Of course I let him in. What else could I have done? And I wanted so to see his face.

"You know I have tried to stay away, yes?" was the first thing he said. I sighed. This wasn't a promising start. 

"You tried and you failed, I see," I had to say, and I knew it was all going to go wrong again. 

We stood in silence for a while. It was dark in the room, but that hardly matters for our kind. I tried not to look, not to see how the lines of his face were exactly as perfect as I remembered. How his eyelashes cast subtle shadows on pale skin when he closed his eyes, as if in pain.

"Why does it always have to be so difficult between us?" he asked the air, and I wondered if he really didn't see the reason. That to him his transgressions could seem so small, his betrayal so insignificant. But perhaps they were, when one considered the scale and scope of our lives. He had seen so many things, had been so many things.

I searched my soul for the hate I used to feel and came up empty. There was a hollow pain where it once had been, an echo perhaps, of love lost. I hadn't thought about anything dear to me for a very long time, so I hadn't even noticed its passing. There was a sorrow in that, but not of his making. 

But he was waiting, for answers or accusations, I knew not which. His eyes were the same bottomless pools that I used to think held such wisdom. Now all I could see in them was pain. He had suffered, if not for the reasons that I had wanted him to. Should it not be counted towards a penance of sorts? Should I not at least try to forgive him, for things that no longer hurt me at all? 

I had once thought that I could love him. For a little while I believe I had. His darkness had been like a light to me, driving away all shadows and doubt. We were long past that kind of devotion now. I was no longer a fledgling thing, no longer filled with the wide eyed curiosity that had drawn him to me. Yet he had come to me once more.

"You did not come here to fight?" I had to ask him, even thought the answer was obvious. For some reason I needed to hear him say it.

He smiled. It was a sad smile, but there was just a trace of seduction in it, as there always seemed to be with him. I found myself following the curve of his lips with my eyes.

"I came here to see if we could not begin again. If you would let me love you in this era. If you were ready to be yourself again."

That last one shocked me. I sought for signs of mockery, but his face showed none. Could it be that he actually knew me, at least a little? I wanted to believe that he was right, that this thing I'd made myself into was not really me, could never be me. I wanted to know if by being loved I could find it in me to love again. 

I could not bring myself to answer with words. They were empty things in any case, so easy to twist and misunderstand. Deeds counted. What he had done long ago, and what he was doing now. 

Hesitantly I touched his skin. It felt cold to my touch, not invoking desire like mortal flesh does. But unlike mortals in their sweet, intoxicating innocence, he truly wanted this. He wanted me in the ways of his kind, my kind. The thought was freeing, as well as frightening. This was yet another step to take away from my humanity. I had left behind so many things, so many rules, just to reach out and touch him. But it might be worth it. And if I did not try, how would I ever know?

My soul was numb, but he filled it with something. It wasn't love, exactly, but maybe close to it. I needed him in ways I did not remember ever needing anyone. It was a fever beneath my skin, a thirst I could not quench. He made me feel whole, complete in and of myself. I did not need to be anything for him, to pretend or to conceal. He wanted me as I was, my madness as well as my beauty. Maybe to him they were one and the same.

I kissed him. I had never dared to, before. There had never really been a time or a place for it. And in any case, I had been a more timid creature then, still bound by so many rules I was not even conscious of. I'd kissed many men and women since. Merciful death no more, I had taken what I wanted, only to find that, while the hunger of my body might be sated, the emptiness in my soul never was. 

Kissing him was different from all those other times. If I had allowed myself to think about it, before, I would have known it would have to be. He gave and took the same as I did. He was my equal now, in all things. I'd never really been that to anyone. There had always been a gap, one way or another, between all other souls and mine. He bridged it, or maybe never saw it at all.

He bit my lip so suddenly, it almost chased the pleasure away. The pain was sharp at first, the taste of my own blood strange on my tongue, but it felt right. This was what we were, this was the very essence of our nature. So, when his tongue came seeking entrance, I welcomed it with fangs. 

His taste was beyond words. It was centuries of pain, interspersed with flashes of almost blinding joy and, finally, endless grey years of bored despair. It burned me and I eagerly sucked in more. He moaned, and suddenly this wasn't enough. I needed more, more of him, more of this, whatever it was, that drove the dullness of existence away. So I broke the kiss and for a moment stared into his eyes. They were pools no more, for water cannot burn.

I tore at his shirt and mindlessly thanked a deity I'd long since ceased to believe in for the flimsiness of modern clothing. In the past one had to navigate through layers upon layers, and though that delay itself could be pleasurable, I had no patience for it now.

He stayed still while I removed his garments, perhaps knowing I wanted no distractions. I needed to be able to fully appreciate every inch of revealed skin, every involuntary reaction that even my slightest touch could draw out of him. 

When I bit his neck he seemed to lose his everpresent composure. No longer did he wait for my permission, my pleasure. But I did not wish him to. I tangled my hands in his hair and drank. He'd once said he would die if I left him, and in that moment I believed I knew what he'd meant.

At some point we fell to the floor, but I only realized that when he pinned me to it. The outside world, its dimensions and laws, even time itself, had ceased to exist. There was only the hunger and its satiation, in an endless cycle, framed by our naked limbs. 

Finally it ended, as all things must. We had worn out even our preternatural bodies, and dawn was approaching. But it did not feel like the end of anything. We lay entwined, and with my eyes closed I could still recall the exact shape of every part of his body. And, even more wonderful than that, I could feel the shape of his thoughts in me, already fading as his blood mixed with mine, but for the moment so gloriously vivid and real.

This here was peace. This was perhaps as close to heaven as anyone of our kind could ever come. There were no questions, no answers, no riddles now. Only his arms, in the darkness, holding me.


End file.
